Wimp? Me? Nah!

For the second day running, a trouble patron was in the Library. The responses of the library staff, my own response among them, are matters of consideration, of reflection, of thought.

At precisely 9am on Tuesday, 25 November, a man walked into the computer area in the Reference Department of my Library. After two years of working in a, in this, public library setting, following my twenty five year business career, having been parent to two children, after a lifetime of experience, I could, and did, immediately determine and know that this patron was going to be a handful.

How did I know? How do I presume to say I knew?

He wore layers of pants. Flip-up sunglasses left on tortoise-shell frames. A flippancy that was not flippant but clearly a mental illness. Rambling that never stopped. Intuition. Knowledge. I knew.

He asked me to type in an URL that he claimed he could not see well enough to try it himself. It seemed, sorta, a reasonable request. It was a Medline Plus page. The URL was duly complex and convoluted. Quickly I noticed the top of the page: Results 1-10 of 17 for schizophrenic drugs. That caught my attention, alerted me, and told me much.

In the next few minutes it became clear that this was one handful of a patron. Needy, every five minutes he was asking for assistance, for information, for attention. Naturally wanting to help, I told him about our database machines, which could be used to access verified health websites.

Nothing suited him, satisfied his needs, nor pleased him enough to render his need for incessant attention and endless complaining fulfilled. It took not very long to begin to understand that this patron, a visitor to my Library, was not so much interested in results as in verbalizing, complaining, making a spectacle of himself and his desires, needs and wonts. He was in the Library from exactly 9am until exactly 9pm. He had to be told that the Library was closed in order for him to be made to leave. And he was back this morning at precisely 9am, still as needy, as demanding, as frustrating, as exasperating, as the prior day.

And he was allowed to stay. No one in authority on the Library staff threw him out. He was allowed to exploit the system, to game it, to do as he wished.

I took him aside when I went on to work the Reference Desk at 2 this afternoon, into the art gallery, away from everyone, in relative privacy, and told him: we are librarians; we are not your personal assistants. We will help you to get going, but we will not be at your beck and call every five minutes. We have other work to do.

He was not really listening. He did not bother to try to make eye contact. I saw that, yet I still though that I needed to make a point. We went back inside. He was back at the Reference Desk within one minute, begging for attention. I ignored him, but, to my chagrin, one of my colleagues went over to help him.

Wimp librarian.

The guy's question was rudimentary. He was looking at a PDF, and it was showing on the screen rotated 90 degrees from portrait mode. Figuring out how to deal with it would be very simple. Print one page (between yesterday morning at 2pm this afternoon he, easily, had already printed out a couple of hundred pages, accessed a few dozen websites), see what results, then act accordingly. But he needed the attention. Just as a teen, a pre-teen, a child needs attention, obsessively; ignore the question, force him to deal with it himself, and he would figure it out.

But he was not ignored, and he did not need to figure it out himself. THIS IS THE VERY ESSENCE OF LIBRARIAN WIMPISHNESS.

This guy should have been thrown out of the Library yesterday. He was disruptive, he abused his privileges, and he disturbed the rhythm and flow of the Library. Yet he was allowed to stay. He was allowed to control the flow of events.

Same today. He was in at 9am, got on the computer, and aggravated everyone for hours. He operated on the premise that using the computer and acting out is his right, and no one bothered to point out to him that using the library, and its resources, is a privilege. Not put in his place, he acted out, did as he wanted, and stayed around all day long.

I took him into the privacy of the art gallery and gave him my lecture, but he ignored it, and soon received the attention that reinforced his licentiousness. Another patron told him to "shut up" twice. I got into his face and told him that I would throw him out of the library if he did not exercise restraint, and he parried with me, goading me, clearly smart and savvy enough to know just what what going on. I felt restrained, for the senior librarian, and, as it turned out, the director, were aware of his shenanigans. I was ready and willing to toss him, but did not because of my (perhaps misplaced) regard for protocol and procedure.

The questions are clear, obvious, and beg answering:

* what is a public library's obligations to its patrons?

* where is the line between a right and a privilege to library services?

* how much crap do librarians have to take?

* who is right: a patron who pushes, or a librarian who insists on respect?

I have very definite ideas about these questions, the topics touched thereon, and related issues. I had strong opinions on such topics when I started Library and Information Science School, and I was soon in trouble with LIS instructors: don't rock the boat; don't make waves; who the hell do you think you are? were merely three of the questions I faced as a first-year student who just happened to have already worked for twenty five years in "the private sector" and knew a thing or two about "things".

First, and foremost, librarians needs to insist on respect. We do not get respect. "You need a degree to be a librarian?" was a question I got, which verbalized the public perception of what being a librarian is and entails: dang, guy, all you have to do is look up books; what's the big deal?

We do not insist on being treated with respect. Library taxes are too high is a common refrain that only some people verbalize, but which is clearly commonly held.

Can I get one piece of paper for every tax dollar I pay is another one. Dang, dude, I thought, I have nothing to do with your taxes. Second time that man used that line I did say to him that I have nothing to do with setting tax rates (and that perhaps he should contact the tax assessor), though I saw clearly that the man's problems were deeper than his library-tax rate; he was simply an angry man.

I insist on being treated with respect. I am a professional. I have two Master's degrees. I ain't gonna allow some nitwit to game me.

I like people. In fact, I love people. I enjoy and relish the opportunity to banter with folks, to exchange bon mots, to make suggestions and jokes, to listen to witticisms and ramblings: I became a librarian in part because I simply love people. But I will not be treated with disrespect. Too many librarians will, and do, and that damages our profession.

You think all it takes to be a librarian is to say, hey, just Google it, or dang, just read a Nelson DeMille book? Well, sister, it takes a lot more; look, brother, at what the results are when you google a topic a ninth-grader needs to do a research paper on for History class: can you spot the outright racist crap? Can you differentiate between the valid and the inappropriate? Is there not a database the Library subscribes to that is right for this assignment? Is there more wisdom than watching reality shows? than watching The Daily Show (let alone less-intelligent shows) -- and I dig Jon Stewart much.

It takes a lot of work to get an MLS degree. Having an MLS qualifies me, as it qualifies every holder of such degree, to a hell of a lot more than to be able to tell some twerp that he needs to click on the printer icon in Adobe in order to get a PDF to print; but it requires that every librarian recognize that there is a whole hell of a lot more to being a librarian, professional information specialist, than having people walk all over us because we are too wimpy to tell them to shape up, use their own brain, and stop being such pains in the glutæus maximus.

It is as much, and perhaps more, of our responsibility, as professionals, as librarians, to insist on respect, as it is the public's responsibility to accord us such respect, In fact, such respect will not be given, let alone granted, unless we insist on it.

I insist.